


Kiss the Baker Ficlets

by Ltleflrt



Series: Kiss the Baker [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Castiel, Cop Dean, Do not repost, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and ficlets relating to Kiss the Baker.  99.99% fluff, with probable smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skater Boy

Laser lights, eighties pop music blaring from crappy speakers overhead, and teenie boppers fuckin’ _everywhere._  Standing very precariously in a pair of seriously-too-old roller skates at the edge of an actual honest-to-god skating rink, Dean very deliberately considered the life choices that had brought him to this moment. 

“This can’t be my life,” he muttered. 

He nearly lost his balance when Castiel rolled up next to him and grabbed him by the arm.  “You ready?” he called over the thumping beats of the most obnoxiously repetitive music Dean had ever heard. 

Ah fuck, Castiel’s eyes were wide, and he was practically grinning ear to ear.  There was no way Dean was backing out of this now. 

Besides, he already had the skates on.  Might as well get out there and _really_ make a fool out of himself.  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

Castiel was nearly vibrating out of his skates, he was so excited.  He stepped gingerly out onto the smooth surface of the rink and pushed himself out into the flow of bodies circling around the room.  Dean stayed back, watching for a moment.  Castiel’s movements were awkward for all of five heartbeats, and then they smoothed out, his body moving perfectly in rhythm with the music, with all the grace of years of practice. 

That fucker probably lied about not having skated since Jr. High. 

When he made a full lap around the rink and stopped in front of where Dean still stood on the carpet at the edge, Castiel tilted his head and held out his hands.  “You coming?" 

 _This really isn’t my kink,_ Dean thought, but kept the innuendo for himself.  Very carefully he let go of the waist high wall he’d been death-gripping, and reached out for Castiel.  He felt like a complete idiot, but he wasn’t quite steady enough on eight tiny wheels to trust himself to step out on the rink without assistance.  Skating a few feet from the bench to the rink on carpet was one thing, but going out on the slick surface where every twelve year old in the county was anxiously waiting to bowl over the inexperienced old dude was a whole other ball game. 

He wobbled and nearly fell as soon as both feet were off the carpet, but Cas caught him easily.  “Whoa, loosen up, Dean,” Castiel murmured close to his ear.  “Being tense will ruin your balance.” 

Narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend in warning, Dean carefully began pressing his feet forward and out until he began to glide across the floor.  Castiel stayed right at a his side, holding his arm and guiding him.  The song changed over to one he recognized.   _Ugh, Madonna?  Really?_  “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” 

“Rollerskating was your idea,” Castiel replied, far too reasonably.  He changed the pressure on Dean’s arm as they came to the part Dean was dreading most.  Turning. 

Yeah, turning?  Turning is bad. 

Dean nearly took Castiel down with him in a tangle of limbs, but Cas managed to keep his footing.  Dean hissed a curse on impact with the floor.  That fall was going to leave a bruise or two.  He glared up at Castiel, ignoring tittering teenagers as they swept past.  “What the hell are you talking about?  You’re the one who wanted to come.” 

Castiel’s grin held no sympathy as he helped Dean to his feet.  “You’re the one who put it on the list.” 

Ah yes, The List.  Dean had nearly forgotten the list of cliche date ideas he and Castiel had created together so long ago.  Reading over it had been a fun trip down memory lane, and he’d been so amused by it that he’d readily agreed when Castiel suggested they actually try some of the things on there. 

The idea had sounded better in theory. 

“I didn’t think we’d actually do any of them,” Dean said once he was back on his feet.  Castiel was skating slowly backwards in front of him, holding out his hands, and silently beckoning Dean to follow him.  Unwilling to be left stranded in the middle of the rink, Dean once again pressed his feet down and forward until he got himself rolling again. 

“Well I think we should do all of them.”  Castiel increased his speed a little, forcing Dean to keep up so he could hear him speak over the music. 

Dean laughed.  “All of them?  Even riding horses on the beach?” 

“And mini golf,” Castiel added with a grin that wrinkled his nose. 

The distance between them was widening, and Dean pressed himself to move faster.  “Picnic by the pond at the park?” 

“Ferris wheel rides at the fair!” Castiel was no longer skating backwards.  He’d fallen back until he was at Dean’s side, and he reached out to thread their fingers together. 

This skating thing wasn’t too bad.  Dean was beginning to feel a lot more steady, and he was no longer going so slowly that everyone was passing him by.  “Dude, if we do that and we get stuck at the top, I am going to fucking kill you.” 

“We’ll make out so you won’t notice how high up we are,” Castiel promised. 

That didn’t sound so bad at all. 

Ignoring all the teenagers that yelled warnings at them, Dean pulled Castiel to a stop near the middle of the rink and wrapped him in his arms.  He kissed the tip of Castiel’s nose, enjoying the way it made his boyfriend laugh.  “Well then,” he said with a warm smile of his own.  “Sounds like we got ourselves a date.” 


	2. Sam Learns To Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. Yay for blowjobs :D

Castiel lifts the lid from the pot and smiles when the smell of fresh popcorn rises up on a puff of steam.  So much better than that that microwave crap that Dean likes to stock up on.  Castiel refuses to touch it, but Dean buys it anyway.

He pours the popcorn from the pot into a large bowl and salts it lightly before carrying it out to the living room where he sets it down on the coffee table at Dean’s elbow.  Dean glances up long enough to smile brightly at him, and reaches for the snack with fingers stained dark with charcoal and popping a few fluffy pieces into his mouth.  His attention goes right back to the large pad of paper he’s been covering with sketches of snarling werewolves.  “Thanks, Cas.”

“Shouldn’t you wash your hands first?  Eating charcoal can’t be good for you.”

“First of all, charcoal is used for poison victims-”

“Activated charcoal, which I doubt has much in common with art supplies.”

Dean ignores his interruption.  “And second, it’s not even enough to hurt me.”

Castiel hums noncommittally and presses a kiss against the top of Dean’s head, smiling slightly at the way the spiky strands tickle his cheeks, before settling on the couch behind him, framing Dean’s strong back with his knees.  He leans over Dean’s hunched form and grabs the remote control from the coffee table and thumbs the button to unpause the movie.

It’s a movie about werewolves, of course.  Dean found every single one available on Netflix and has been watching them all weekend.  Horror is not Castiel’s prefered movie genre, but most of what they’d been watching was too hokey to be scary.  He’s not sure why he bothered pausing the movie to go make a snack since he’s not enjoying it all that much.

He slouches back against the cushions and lets his eyes glaze over while he considers a new recipe for cookies.  Sugar cookies with crushed lemon heads sprinkled over the lime frosting would make a colorful addition to the shop’s menu.

Between his legs, Dean shifts, causing Castiel’s attention to snap back into focus.  But he doesn’t look at the t.v. since he’s still not interested in watching screaming teenagers get chased down and gnawed on.  His eyes fall on the broad stretch of Dean’s shoulders, covered by the soft fabric of an orange t-shirt.

The muscles flex slightly, and Castiel’s mouth begins to water.  Maybe instead of lime frosting, he’ll do tangerine frosting.  He can still color it lime green, so the flavor will be a surprise.

The thought is only a fleeting one, because the only flavor he’s really interested in at the moment is the salt of Dean’s skin.  He sits up, shifting forward to the edge of the couch, caging Dean between his thighs.  His fingers are drawn to the short hairs at the base of Dean’s skull, scratching up over the back of his scalp.

The little moan of pleasure that rumbles up from Dean’s throat is followed by a full body shiver.  When Castiel’s fingernails trail back down, continuing down over the curve of his shoulders, the faint susurration of charcoal on paper stops, and Dean leans back into the touch.  The light scratches became firmer, Castiel’s thumbs digging into the muscles that had become tight while Dean spent hours hunched over his sketchpad.

“You have an hour to stop that,” Dean mumbles as his head drops down between his shoulders, exposing the back of his neck.

Castiel’s hands are strong from spending hours a day kneading dough, and he uses that now to turn Dean into a puddle.  The little noises Dean makes as his muscles begin to relax are unintentionally erotic, but definitely enough to have Castiel’s dick tenting his lounge pants.

Which Dean discovers when he switches positions, leaning his head back to look up at Castiel.  The skin around his eyes tightens into tiny little laugh lines when he feels Castiel’s dick brush his ear.  He tilts his head enough to rub his cheek against it.  “Why hello there, Cas.”

Castiel leans down and presses a kiss to the bridge of Dean’s nose.  He flicks his tongue out against freckled skin, smiling widely when Dean laughs and pulls away with a half-hearted protest.  Castiel licks his lips, imagining that he’s capturing the taste of cinnamon.  He knows that there’s no possible way he can taste Dean’s freckles, but that doesn’t stop the way his tongue tingles in response.

“You look like you want to eat me,” Dean murmurs.  His green eyes sparkle behind the long fringe of his lashes, and Castiel wonders if he could mix food coloring to get just that shade for some frosted cupcakes.

Castiel responds by tilting Dean’s head back enough that he can press their lips together.  He tastes like fruity soda and buttery popcorn.  It reminds him of the time Dean dragged him to a superhero movie that Castiel had very little interest in and was so pumped by the ending they’d made out during the credits.  They’d ended half naked in the backseat of the Impala afterwards too.

The memory of laughter between heated kisses and frantic groping makes him smile now, and he sits up enough to grin down at Dean.  “Well, you are delicious.”

Dean sits up and pushes the coffee table out of the way so that he can turn around and kneel between Castiel’s legs.  Despite the black coating his fingers he cup’s Castiel’s face and pulls him into a heated kiss that is mostly tongue and teeth.  It leaves Castiel breathless and gasping and not at all ready for it to end when Dean pulls away.  

He makes a small noise of protest, but Dean just winks at him and shoves him back against the couch cushions.  “Y’know what I think, Cas?”

Castiel only lifts an eyebrow in question.  Dean’s hands are pushing up under his shirt, tucking it up under his arms and baring his chest.  And probably leaving black fingerprints all over him, which is kind of hot actually.

“I think,” Dean says as he leans down to lick one of Castiel’s nipples, maintaining eye contact the whole time, “that you’re pretty damn tasty yourself.”  He punctuates the sentence by moving to the other nipple and suckling at it.

“This conversation appears to be taking a good turn,” Castiel mutters even as his hips jerk in response to Dean’s teeth closing gentle around the sensitive flesh.

Dean chuckles and runs his hands down Castiel’s torso, and sure enough he’s leaving smudges behind.  His fingers hook into the waistband of Castiel’s lounge pants and tug.  Castiel wiggles and shifts his hips as best he can to help Dean pull the soft jersey cloth down around his thighs.  He congratulates himself on his decision not to wear underwear when he got dressed after his morning shower.

“I need to get a taste of that, too,” Dean murmurs, eyes hungry as they trace over Castiel’s hard dick.  He leans down and runs the flat of his tongue from base to head, moaning when he laps up a bead of precum.  He glances up and winks at Castiel before sinking down, taking as much into his mouth as he can.

The air is punched out of Castiel’s lungs when Dean sucks hard enough hollow his cheeks.  His hips twitch up, and he whines when Dean’s hands grasp his thighs to hold him down, pressing dark fingerprints into his skin.

Dean sucks him off like he’s starving, and it’s not long before Castiel is right on the edge.  Castiel’s hands come up and he threads his fingers through Dean’s hair, and--

The front door opens, and Sam’s wide shoulders fill the frame.  “Hey guys, are you ho-olyshitsorry!!”

Castiel’s orgasm is punctuated by the door slamming shut.

It takes three deep breaths before he’s able to lift his head off the couch cushions and look at Dean, who is pressing the back of his wrist against his mouth to muffle his laughter.  Castiel glances down at his bare torso, smudged all over with charcoal fingerprints, and his softening dick laying over his stomach, then narrows his eyes at Dean.  “Your brother needs to learn to knock.”

Dean’s laughter escapes his efforts to subdue it.  “Oh, I think,” he manages between snickers, “he’s definitely learned his lesson.”

Unable to resist Dean’s bright eyed joy, Castiel grins and lunges forward to tackle him to the floor.  When he’s got Dean laid out on the carpet underneath him, he nips at his stubbled jaw.  “Good, then he won’t interrupt us again.”

“You got something planned?” Dean asks with a mischievous waggle of his brows.

Castiel’s eyes fall on Dean’s lips.  They’re pink and swollen, and look fucking delicious.  He dips his head and runs his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip, and then smirks down at him.  “I’m just going to have myself a light snack.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the coffee table where the bowl of popcorn sits mostly untouched.  They both know that’s not what Castiel is referring to.  His teeth flash in a delighted smile.  “Awesome.”

 


End file.
